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COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 



"And this is liberty — that one grow after the 
law of his own life, hindering not another." 



ofJ^gabondim 



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HV4 504 
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Copyright 1913 
By Andress Floyd 

APR 8 191^ 



FEB -5 1914 



TO MY WIFE 

LILLIAN BLANCHE FLOYD 

WHOSE DEVOTION AND INSPIRATION 

MADE POSSIBLE 

THE SELF MASTER COLONY 



Introductory" 

TV/TY monks of VAGABONDIA comprises 
-^'^-^ Fact-stories selected from the old files of 
the Self Master Magazine. I wish to present the 
defeated man, as he really is, to the reader who 
cannot fail to appreciate the humor and tragedy 
that makes up his wayward life. The bond of 
sympathy should be awakened between us and 
the so-called prodigal. 

A wider publicity should be given to the unique 
but practical uplift work that I have founded and 
carried on for the past five years among these 
weaker brothers. 

The stories explain in part the methods and 
plans of the Family of Self Masters. 

It is — we believe — the only book in which 
a writer has received his facts for his stories 
direct from a life-experience with outcast men. 

Not alone that, but the volume is printed, bound 
and illustrated by the unexpected guests — the 
Itinerant Monks of whom the tales are told, and 
who make their home in our so-called Monastery. 

The day approaches when broken men shall 
have beautiful, though simple, homes of their own 



making, modeled after the group idea of The Self 
Master Colony. They will be established outside of 
the different cities of the world, and opened hospi- 
tably to all men who come in their hour of need 
or weakness, seeking Self Mastery and the peace 
that accompanies it. 

The proceeds from the sale of these stories go 
toward the purchase and installation of much 
needed equipment for the Printshop and Bindery. 
With this equipment the men can work out their 
own independence, industrially and socially. 

When a man has lived months and years en- 
slaved by some vicious habit — self-destructive 
and careless of consequences — his sub-conscious 
mind is a sensitive matrix on which the sordid 
history is deeply engraved. The certain change 
can come only as the man learns values and 
respects them by a right life. 

The sub-conscious self takes on a complete refor- 
mation slowly. An evil habit does not gain mastery 
over the man upon the instant nor once in con- 
trol is its grip broken by any feeble affirmation 
or miraculous phenomenon. 

The hope comes when one turns one's thought 
from the destructive to the constructive, and lives 
in the sight of the new born faith until wisdom 



lifts the darkened veil and freedom follows as its 
rightful legacy. 

The Self Master Colony offers an open door to 
the disheartened man during the period of his 
awakening to his real strength and helps him 
with its constant care and sympathy back to his 
true self. 

ANDRESS FLOYD. 



A JOURNEY TO OUR 
MONASTERY 



^T If any pilgrim monk come from distant 
^J-> parts to dwell with us, and will be content 
with the customs w^hich he finds in the place, 
and do not perchance by his lavishness disturb 
the Monastery, he shall be received. 

— Saint Benedict 



A Journey to our Monastery 




HE MAN had walked the 
entire distance from New 
York to the Self Master 
Family. In truth, he had 
walked more than the en- 
tire distance, for once or 
twice he had lost his way 
— as many a man has done 
in other walks of Life. 
Painfully he had retraced his steps to the right 
road. The mistakes had told heavily upon his fail- 
ing strength. They had made him just that much 
more weary with it all. No doubt mistakes are 
wonderfully educational; they make men wiser, 
and therefore better, for in the final analysis wis- 
dom and goodness are synonymous. 

He complained bitterly at the hardness of his 
lot and found little comfort in the thought that he 
might reach the Colony too late for the evening 
meal. 

His friend who had met him walking aimlessly 
up and down Broadway assured him that there 
was always a coffee pot boiling on the old-fashioned 

19 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

cook stove in the boys' kitchen — that the Colony 
House never locked its doors, 

To a man who feels that every door in the 
world is locked against him there is comfort in 
the thought that there is really one place where he 
may find a welcome. His friend had said that 
there would be no questions asked him on his 
arrival — no investigation. 

"No investigation," he muttered aloud, "thank 
God ! It is easier for a camel to pass through the 
eye of a needle than it is for a 'down-and-out' 
man to convince Professional Charity that he is 
really hungry. I think they would have given me 
a 'hand-out' when they investigated me the last 
time if I could have told them what town my 
mother was born in." 

He smiled with weak cynicism at the folly of 
his thoughts, and then became suddenly serious, 
for on the side hill in front of a large colonial 
house, worked out in white stone, w^ere the words 
"The Self Masters." He stopped and studied the 
quiet, home-like scene from the road. All these 
weary miles he had come to ask food and shelter, 
and now his courage seemed to fail him. He sat 

20 



MY MONKS tf VAGABONDIA 

down by the road side and leisurely took his pipe 
from his pocket. Then he prepared tobacco \vith 
the utmost care, filled the pipe and lighted it. 

"THE SELF MASTERS" 
he spelled out the letters on the sign; "What the 

h 11 is that ? — Self Master — Self Mastery — 

Self Control. Old Man, if you had ever had any 
of that Self Control in your make-up you would 

not be a Knight of the Dusty Road ! You 

had better go back to the East Side where you 
know the land; where no man cares whether you 
live decently or not — if you can buy." 

Then the sound of a piano and male voices 
came to him and awakened him to a new train of 
thought, "it is a Monastery — a Monastery of 
Vagabondia," he said, "and why not? why shouldn't 
a man, even a homeless man, have his Monastery, 
if you please, where he can forget his past and 
live cleanly ? If he only lives cleanly for a day 

and falls It's something to remember — a 

day he doesn't have to be ashamed of. Who 
knows but that in the one day of unselfish living 
a man is more truly his real self than he is in all 
the other days of his vicious years. 

21 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

"Throughout his long life Moses was the leader 
of his people, but it was in that day that he talked 
with God — face to face — that his countenance 
did shine like the sun. It was not when he slew 
the Egyptian, and, frightened, buried him in the 
sand; it was when he stood in the presence of 
Divinity — that Moses was Moses. When the 
drunkard is in his sober mind, when the liar is 
speaking the truth, when the thief is giving honest 
measure, when the murderer is kind to his fellow, 
then, and only then, is the true Self finding ex- 
pression." 

He drew heavily at his pipe and then smilingly 
said, "My pipe has gone out ! '' He knocked out 
the ashes into his hand and scattered them to the 
wind, gravely, as if it were some religious cere- 
mony. Then he dusted his shoes and clothes, 
and straightening himself up to his full height, he 
marched bravely up to the front door of the 
house 

A black crow, belated in his home-going, 

left his corn-thieving, and, rising, flew across the 
sky to his eyrie in the pines. 



22 



MARY AND THE BABY 



And a little child shall lead them." 

— Iseuah, 



Mary and the Baby 




ESOLVED, that old-fash- 
ioned cow's milk is better 
for Our Baby, than any 
prepared food." 

The debate on the above 
subject will start at seven 
o'clock next Thursday eve- 
ning. The Conservatives of 
our Colony will speak in 
favor of cow's milk as a baby's food. The Pro- 
gressives will speak in favor of prepared food. 

The parliamentary rules governing the debate 
will be the same as govern a "catch-as-catch-cari" 
wrestling match. 

No slugging will be permitted until forensic 
effort has proven ineffective. When further argu- 
ment has become useless, the three-ounce boxing 
gloves, recently donated to us, may be used to 
force a decision. In fact, several of the boys who 
talk but little, are practising with the gloves, so 
that they may become factors in the final settle- 
ment of the problem. 

On the other hand, the literary coterie is in deep 
study. One boy is reading up reference books on 

27 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

the subject whenever he can find the time. Still 
another blindfolds himself and opens the Bible at 
random, looking for spiritual guidance on the sub- 
ject of infant diet. Of course the Court of Final 
Appeal will be Her Ladyship — The Baby Herself. 
She already knows a great deal about crackers 
and breakfast foods, and she is far too clever not 
to have her own opinion on the dietary properties 
of milk and its substitutes. ^ 



And now it may be in point to tell how we came 
to have a ten-months-old baby at our Colony. 

We are ostensibly a young men's colony— men 
and boys trying to get to their feet and become 
independent and self-supporting. But if anyone 
comes to us hungry, we like to give them some- 
thing more edible than a card to a professional 
charity. 

Had Hunger delayed her coming another week, 
Our Baby and her mother might have been driven 
to ask food and shelter on Christmas Eve. As it 
was, they came to us on December 19th, at ten 
o'clock in the evening. They had no place in 
which to sleep except the local police station, and 

28 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

that is not the place for a little baby— even strong 
men weaken in the chill of its hospitality. 

So, on their arrival, the boys who were retiring 
for the night, held a conference. Our supply of 
beds and bedding did not even equal the demand 
made upon it by the boys themselves. But that 
did not cause them to hesitate, and all agreed that 
they must not turn the newcomers av/ay. One 
boy immediately gave up his blanket, the second 
his comforter, the third his bed. In that way the 
mother and baby were made comfortable for the 
night, little realizing that they were taking any- 
thing away from those who had nothing to spare. 
But homeless men are quickly sympathetic, for 
what they know^ of hunger and cold is not alto- 
gether hearsay. 

On the next day we undertook to make more 
permanent provision for the Baby and Mary, her 
mother. We began to look around for beds. V/e 
asked two of the kind-hearted clergymen if they 
could obtain a bed for our new arrivals. One of 
them phoned me later in the day to ask me what 
town the poor people were from, and when I in- 
formed him, he said " The woman should have 

29 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

applied to the charity association of the city from 
which they came. If the casa was worthy, aid 
would be given." 

Worthy or unworthy, we didn't feel like send- 
ing the Baby away. She was teething and fretful, 
and a teething, fretful baby may not be as worthy 
as one who grins and bears it. 

The other minister said, "The wonderful work 
the Church was doing, had not so much to do 
with the poor in this life, as in the hereafter." 
Now in truth, while the mother was discouraged 
and didn't care anything about life as far as she 
herself was concerned, she had ambition for her 
child, so she could not qualify and ask assistance 
under these conditions. 

The boys themselves made two wooden beds, 
and fitted up a room for the Baby, while the mother 
in turn helped the young men in the kitchen. 

The Baby has grown strong and well. She likes 
her big brothers with all their noise and horse- 
play, and they like their Baby. To see rough home- 
less men sing lullabies to an infant-in-arms, con- 
gratulating themselves when she falls asleep 
soothed by the monotonous humming of some 
30 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

cradle song that they themselves thought they had 
forgotten long ago, might renew one's faith in the 
kindly humanity that lives in every heart. 

Has not Christ said, " And whosoever shall re- 
ceive one such little child in my name, receiveth 
me. 

THE BABY'S FATHER 

Now, this Baby has a father. He has lived in 
Russia and came to America to earn money. One 
of his older brothers was already located in New^ 
York State, and from his letters sent over the sea,, 
it was plain that the opportunities for wealth in 
the States were most promising. 

The older brother had grown rich— very rich- 
working on the railroad. He never earned less 
than nine dollars a week, and now that he spoke 
English, he earned twelve. 

Such stories of easily acquired wealth lured 
John, as we call him, to leave his Fatherland with 
his wife and child. But unfortunately for John 
and his family, they reached America during the 
recent panic Thousands of workmen were idle. 
In New York, John could find no work. Even the 
rich brother only worked part of the time, and 

31 



MY MONKS §f V AG ABONDI A 

having wife and children of his own, had nothing 
to divide with John and his family. So John 
drifted away seeking employment. 

The few dollars that he brought with him be- 
came exhausted, and although he studied English 
evenings, he spoke it brokenly. One of the boys 
at the Colony said he talked in "kindlewood." 

While he was seeking employment, no word 
came to the wife and child. Some said John would 
never come back. But Mary believed in him. She 
said that he had always loved the baby and he 
knew that she herself could work. But at times 
even she doubted when ^veeks followed weeks 
and no word came. 

Once when one of the boys was going to New 
York, she called him aside quietly, and said, "You 
will see John in New York, I think . . . Big man, 
light hair . . . tell him come home, see Baby . . . 
I want him." 

But John was not seen in New York. 

It was not until a few days ago that he returned. 
He had traveled through New York State and on 
to Massachusetts. No work — everywhere no 
work ! Sometimes he had walked. Sometimes he 

32 



MY MONKS §r VAGABONDIA 

had jumped a freight. All to no purpose. He had 
wanted to write good news to Mary, and he had 
no good news to write. Always bad news. He 
was a failure. He had wished he might end it all, 
but the thought of the Baby had made him con- 
tinue the search for employment. 

Finally, one day, a rich man in Montclair needed 
a gardener. This man was rich — not rich like his 
brother — but had houses and acres of splendid 
farm. He would pay two dollars a day wages to 
a man willing to work. It seemed too good to be- 
lieve. He would hurry back to his Baby and Mary. 
They must know the good news. 

So he came and told Mary he had a job, and a 
little home for her and the Baby, They would be 
rich like his brother. 

So Mary went with John and they took their 
Baby, all tied up in shawls. 

That was yesterday — Monday — so there will 
be no argument Thursday on " V^'hether or not 
old-fashioned cow's milk is better for babies than 
prepared foods." 

Because we homeless men have lost Our Baby. 

One of the boys asked the Chairman — another 

33 



MY MONKS ff VAGABONDIA 

boy — if they would have the Debate, now that 
the Baby was gone ? 

" To hell with it," replied the Presiding Officer. 



The above is a true story, and to The Self 
Master Colony, all a part of the day's work* 




34 



MY PROBLEM W^ITH 
SLIPPERY JIM 



'When a boy goes to prison, a dtizen dies.'' 

—Jmcob RiH 




cTVIy Problem with 
Slippery" Jim. 

[Y RAZOR WENT yester- 
day for a beef stew,** the 
young dare-devil told me. 
"Not that I am one of 
those collar -and -necktie- 
rounders," he continued, 
"who seek to give out the 
impression that they are 
gentlemen in distress, tell- 
ing you of their Southern family and a squan- 
dered fortune when, in fact, they have never been 
further South than Coney Island . . . But when 
a fellow decides to sell his razor he is about to 
commit an act that severs the jugular vein of his 
respectability. 

" He may have, only the moment before, shaven 
and groomed himself with the utmost care, still 
he is nearly ready to join the ranks of the down- 
and-outs. A man may sell his other belong- 
ings — his clothes included — and yet preserve a 
suggestion at least of his sang-froid. But when 
the razor goes — " 

39 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

" Then he can get a free shave at the Barbers' 
School," I suggested. 

" That only helps for a day or two," he went 
on. " Better throw up your hands at once and 
have it over. What man half ill v^ith worry 
cares to listen to some ambitious pupil say, 
^ Teacher, shall I shave the right side of his face 
up, or shave it down ?' — and,' Teacher, hew do 
you shave the upper lip without cutting it ?' and, 
' Teacher, if I do cut it, shall I disinfect it with 
carbolic or peroxide before I put on the new 
skin ?'~ No Barbers' School for me. It is better 
to turn philosopher on the instant — the old 
philosophers and prophets grew long beards. 
, . . Talk about getting next to Nature in about 
three days after a man has sold his razor. Nature . 
will get next to him, and if he is not as beardless 
as an American Indian, he will be convinced 
when he sees himself in a mirror, of the truth of 
the Darwinian theory." 

" In Russia," I said, " the beard is the patri- 
arch's badge of sanctity." 

" So it is in Jersey and several other States," 
he replied. "Many a so-called hobo with t^vo 

40 



MY MONKS §f VAGABONDIA 

weeks' growth of beard on his face may be at 
heart only a conscientious respecter of the law — 
for it is a misdemeanor in New Jersey to carry a 
razor. It is legally declared to be a concealed 
weapon. Many a poor rascal against whom a 
charge of vagrancy could not be maintained has 
found it so much the worse for him, and has been 
forced to go to prison for carrying concealed 
weapons in the form of a razor. So you see in 
Jersey, as well as in Russia, a beard may be only 
proof of honor . . . The cleanly shaven man who 
knocks at your side door and wins the unsuspect- 
ing wife's confidence with that time-worn plati- 
tude of Vagabondia, ' Lady, all I want is work,' 
may have a weapon concealed upon his person, 
while the unshaven wanderer, the sight of whom 
makes the women folks bolt doors, may be a 
homeless fello^v who really wants work, and 
would rather be unkempt in appearance than 
chance a prison-term for carrying a razor." 

" So you have sold your razor ?" I asked. 

"Not because I am trying to compete with 
your Russian patriarch in sanctity. I sold it be- 
cause I'm desperate." 

41 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

'' Then you were not afraid of the misdemeanor 
charge ?" 

He replied with a laugh that I did not like, and 
I felt quickly to see if my watch was still in my 
possession, 

"I don't want your watch," he said, "but it 
isn't the fear of doing time that holds me back. 
I know what my friend wrote about me. I have 
made up my mind to play square. You may not 
believe it. You have heard too many mission 
testimonies to believe much in them. But if I 
live right — it isn't because my heart is softened, 
my heart is cold and hard as a paving block." 

" Your friend wrote that you weren't such a 
bad fellow." 

''Don't believe him. In Elmira they have a 
scheme of percentage, and if a man gets above a 
certain percent he can win his freedom. In the 
four years I was there I was safely within the 
required percentage — all I had to do was to con- 
tinue my good behavior. I was w^ithin a few days 
of freedom. Did you ever sense hatred — pure 
hatred ? Shylock felt it when he refused to accept 
money to cancel Antonio's bond ; when he would 

42 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

not listen to threats or entreaties, but only mut- 
tered, ' I'll have my pound of carrion flesh.' I 
know what he felt. In the night, after weeks and 
weeks of patient study and labor — after months 
of good conduct, when I played their game and 
won the chance of freedom. In the night, with- 
out reason, I jumped from my bed and battered 
at the bars and yelled and cursed at them all, 
until they put me in the dungeon and took from 
me my high percent. I lost a year that time." 

"Do the prison bars still hold you," I asked 
him. 

" W^hat do you mean ?" 

" You act like a mad man when you talk of the 
past. Some men can never throw off the thought 
of their imprisonment. It rules their life. They 
think only of prison and the crimes that follow 
such thinking. There is no hope for them. Can't 
you see it is your ideals that enslave or make you 
free ? Can't you see you are free ?" 

"It's mighty hard," he said, "but I want to 
forget. My friend sent me to you. He said you 
knew the path to freedom, and would help me. 
Days and days I have waited for you to come to 

43 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

me. My father would not have me at home, my 
friends left me, my money grew less and less— 
my clothes went, my razor — everything. And 
still you did not come. Sometimes I'd meet a 
boy that told me of your work. Sometimes I 
would doubt all I had heard, and then I would 
become indifferent — mutter a prayer or plan a 
crime. At last the letter came. I knew I was 
being put to the test, and I sought to be firm. 
Oh, God, such a test ! What is it holds a man ? 
I was hungry, yet I knew how to steal ; I needed 
money, and I knew where I could rob with reason- 
able safety. What is it holds a man like me? 
At times I have thought it was my belief in you." 

" You mean our Colony held out a hope to you." 

'' Yes," he said. 

" I am afraid to take you into my Family," I 
told him. 

" For fear I'll steal from you ?" he said, coldly. 

" No, not that ; I fear you cannot leave your 
prison thoughts behind you when you enter the 
Colony." 

"if you help me," he said, thoughtfully, "l 
think I can begin anew," 

44 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

" Will you promise never to speak to me or 
anyone of your past life ?" 

" I will not speak of it again." 

" Then you may go to the entrance gate with 
me, and there I will decide if I can take you in." 

We talked on the way to the farm about many 
things — for he had read and traveled much. We 
made no mention of the Family or its work, but 
as we came near the Colony House I stopped. 

" Tell me," I said, "did they teach you a trade 
at Elmira ?" 

" I'm a metal roofer by trade," he said. 

" Did you learn the trade in prison ?" I asked 
him. 

" I think you mistake me for some other man," 
he replied, quietly. " I know nothing about prison 
life." 

" What do you mean, not only your friend told 
me that you had served a term, but you told me 
yourself?" I said, severely. 

He looked calmly into my face, but there were 
tears in his eyes. 

" I could not have told you, for had I told you 
such a foolish falsehood I would have remem- 

45 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

bered it. Let us talk of something else." 

'' Very good," I said, pleasantly. He was try- 
ing to forget the past. 

At that moment there came to us the vigorous 
clamor of an old cow bell. 

" It is the bell that calls the boys to their even- 
ing meal." 

"Yes?" 

'' Come, let us hurry, so we may be served at 
the first table, for you are hungry." 

II 

The holy Vedas teach us that as we pass from 
life to life. Time places gentle fingers over the 
eyes of memory, lest we become disheartened by 
past errors and falter enslaved by the fears of 
what we have been. Like the child who, having 
worked out a problem on his slate, erases it all, 
keeping only the answer, so we have within our 
soul-life the result of our past experiences ; all the 
rest is erased. 

^A/'ho cares about the detailed account of all the 
happenings along the path we have traveled? 
W^e know intuitively that much of the past must 

46 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

be condemned, but that which concerns us vitally 
is the life we aim to live to-day. 

Night closes on the sorrows of yesterday. Dawn 
is radiant with the promise of a better day. 

Our friend, " Slippery Jim," tried to believe all 
this, and to look with hope towards the future, 
but he kept much to himself. He would take 
long walks into the woods. 

It disturbed me to see him so slow to take the 
boys into his confidence. 

'' I never see you reading with the other men 
in the evening," I told him. " Men who love soli- 
tude are either very good or very bad." 

" I will try to do better," he answered, " but for so 
many years I have been used to being by myself." 

" Still one has to live in the world — and our 
world here is rather small," I said. "Cheerful- 
ness is a duty one owes to his own soul." 

"And to others," he added. 

"Yes, and to others," I replied. 

" I am inclined to view lightly my duty to others. 
I owed a debt — a great debt once — to others, 
and I have paid it. They measured it out of my 
life, the payment they demanded. I have paid 

47 



MY MONKS ^ VAGABONDIA 

it — paid it in tears and wretchedness — paid it 
out of my heart and soul. Now I prefer to live 
apart . . . The Indians, so the poet says, when 
on the march, leave their old and sick alone to 
die. I am a sick savage, and as such, I ask my 
rights." 

''Do you believe in the Great Spirit and the 
Happy Hunting Grounds ?" I asked gently, for I 
knew he had no Indian blood in his veins. 

" Their religion is as good as many another, 
and quite as poetical." 

" Then go into the forest and pray to your Great 
Spirit," I said. "Only don't discredit him by 
being inconsiderate of others who would be kind 
to you." 

" Do I not do my work ?" he asked, with rising 
anger. 

*' You are expected to do your work, but I am 
not speaking to you on that subject. I want to 
know what you are thinking about while you are 
at work." 

" If you please, that is my own affair." 

" If you please, it is my affair also. You came 
out here to have me help you. I want to help you." 

48 



MY MONKS gr VAGABONDIA 

" You have helped me ; you took me into this 
Colony when my father had closed the door on 
me ; you have given me food — such as it is — and 
out of the clothes sent in you have given me this 
second-hand suit." 

"And you have worked like the other men and 
paid by your labor for what you received ?" 

"Yes." 

"And that is all there is to it ?" 

"Yes." 

"it is very, very little I have done for you," 
and I started to leave him. 

"W^ait a moment"— he stopped me. "l did 
not intend to be unkind to you. You have treated 
me much better than I have deserved." 

" It is something to have even simple food when 
one is hungry," I said, severely. " You have also 
more courage than when you came. In your work 
you know courage is quite important. You will 
soon be able to go back to your old life." 

" No, not that," his voice becoming less hard- 
ened. " In these days I have lived with you and 
observed the happiness you get out of your 
work — in spite of its sacrefice — and compared it 

49 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

with my own way of living, I can not understand 
how^ I could have ignored the good there's in me. 
But, really, you should not expect us all to be as 
cheerful as you are. You may see clearly the 
Truth that we see only through a glass darkly." 

" So you plan to live like an honest man ?" 

"Absolutely." 

" Then I have not really lost after all," I said, 
thoughtfully. 

" What did you say ?" he questioned, not hav- 
ing heard clearly my remark. 

" I said that if you have determined to live hon- 
estly, that is something." 

That evening I saw him walking up and down 
the kitchen floor with our Baby in his arms — for 
that Winter we had a homeless mother and Baby 
at the Colony. The Baby was kicking and laugh- 
ing as he carried her with measured stride around 
the room. 

" I simply must put her to sleep," he said, con- 
fidingly. 

" Why don't you sing to her," I suggested. 

" I am hazy on my slumber songs," he said. 
50 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

A little later the Baby was nodding with half 
closed eyes. 

"Doesn't she look pretty," said the admiring 
mother. 

" She looks like Jefifries at the end of the fifth/' 
was Jim's reply. 

A few moments later I heard him as he walked, 
singing music of his own improvising to the words 
of Wilde's prison poem : 

"With slouch and swing around the ring, 
We trod the Fools' Parade ! 
We did not care ; we knew we were 
The Devil's Own Brigade; 
And shaven head and feet of lead 
Make a merry masquerade." 

Ill 

The Winter was nearly over when " Slippery 
Jim" came to me and expressed a wish to return 
to the World again. If his father would only 
accept him once more ! 

My observation of a father's attitude towards 
his prodigal son is that the moment the son desires 
to live as he ought, not only do closed doors open, 
but the father stands ready with outstretched 

51 



MY MONKS ^ VAGABONDIA 

arms to receive him. This supposedly harsh 
father, when he was convinced that his Jim 
had worked faithfully at the Colony for several 
months, was anxious that his son return home. 
Even the boy's old employer expressed sympathy 
and offered a position to him. 

When this good news came I did not have to 
tell the boy anything about its being one's duty 
to be cheerful. He wanted to dance a clog on 
the table in the men's reading room. 

Early the next morning he left us, not waiting 
to thank us, which was quite unnecessary ; nor 
hardly stopping to say good-bye to us. But a 
few days afterward he wrote to me, saying that 
after four years he was back with his father and 
mother, brother and sisters, in his own room, 
sleeping in his own bed. The family had arranged 
it just the same as it had been before he left them 
for those sad years in prison. His father had pur- 
chased him a new suit for Easter. The next day 
he was to start to work. 

Nearly a year later he visited me. His work 
had taken him out of town. " When I first met 
52 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

you." he said, ** I didn't have a home. Now it is 
a question which one to \'isit first, but I thought 
I would come out to see you, and then go this 
evening and see my other father." 




53 



OUR FRIEND, THE 
ANARCHIST. 



As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he. 

—Bible. 



Our Friend, The Anarchist 




E SAID that he came from 
Germany, but he didn't 
look it, for Germany is a 
beautiful country, and he 
was far removed from 
even a suggestion of 
beauty. Had he said he 
had just arrived from " No 
Man's Land/' it would 
have been easily accredited. For a German, even 
his accent and grammatical construction were 
unsatisfactory. He did not begin his sentences 
in the middle and talk both ways at once, after 
the well established custom of Americanized 
Teutons. In the stress of his excitement he 
expressed himself concisely and clearly. 

He was seated in the Charity House awaiting 
the investigation of the social workers. He held 
his head in his hands, while his body convulsed 
frequently, and tears were in his eyes. 

To see a man with unkempt whiskers indulg- 
ing in a crying spell like a delicate woman, is 
almost as humorous as it is pathetic, unless one 
knows what the man is crying about Then, too, 

57 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

the Germans, unlike the Irish, take their trouble 
seriously, so that their despair often creates for 
them the hell they fear. 

Surely it wasn't a German who in the old Bible 
days sent hired mourners to go about the street; 
it was undoubtedly an Irishman whose genius 
conceived the idea of paying other men to do his 
weeping for him. 

" Where are you from ?" I asked the German. 

He surveyed me suspiciously from head to 
foot, then replied politely enough : " I am of Ger- 
man parentage and have lived the greater part of 
my life in Heidelberg, where my father and grand- 
father were instructors in the University." 

" When did you arrive in America ?" I asked 
him. 

"A few days ago," he answered. " I came from 
Paris, where I met with heavy — heavy for me — 
financial reverses. I attempted to conduct a busi- 
ness similar to your brokers, who loan money on 
personal property, but being unfamiliar with 
French law, I found I could not legally enforce 
payments of the loans I made to the Frenchmen. 
My entire life savings — small, it is true — were 
58 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

lost. In disgust I came to America, and my con- 
dition now is worse than ever. I am desperate." 

He did not raise his voice, speaking quietly, but 
his hands were nervous, and his eyes reminded 
me of Svengali — fascinating, but dangerous. My 
impression was that I had seen safer men locked 
in darkened cells and allowed only wooden spoons 
with which to eat. 

" Has the charity association decided to help 
you ?" I asked. 

** I fear not," he replied. " They wish me to 
tell them my father's address in Germany, as 
they inform me that they always make thorough 
investigations. Several times they asked me my 
home address, but I turned them from the point, 
as I have no intention of adding my burdens to 
the burdens my father and mother already have. 
.... Does it seem quite generous of your social 
workers to be so insistent ? . . . . But, pardon 
me, have you not a saying that * Beggars must 
not be choosers ?' " 

I did not reply to his question, as I was think- 
ing what my Reception Committee — made up of 
the boys of the Colony — would say to me if I 

59 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

invited this much-bewhiskered individual to join 
our Family. For the instant I forgot the Ger- 
man's troubles in the thought of the troubles 
which I was about to take upon myself. I smiled 
at my approaching embarrassment, "it is all 
very well," the boys had cautioned me, " to hold 
us responsible for the newly-arrived members, 
to make certain that no criminal nor fraud obtains 
admission to the Family, but you might be a 
little more discriminating in your selections, could 
you not ?" 



The German was quick to avail himself of my 
offer to join the Colony; he would go to Hoboken 
and get his luggage and join me as soon as possi- 
ble. His luggage — he met me an hour later — 
consisted of a wooden box too small to be called 
a trunk, too large to be called a valise. 

As we approached the Colony House we passed 
several of the boys who had evidently seen us at 
a distance, for they appeared deeply interested 
in the setting sun, their faces turned from us. 
Finally one fellow who, like a good Pullman por- 
ter, can laugh at you without changing his facial 

60 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

expression, only if you watch closely you may 
note that the muscles at the back of the neck 
dance in uncontrolled merriment — came forward 
and said to us : "A beautiful sunset." 

He should have been reprimanded for his impu- 
dence, but I simply asked, " Where ?" 

" In the west/' he explained. Then the boys 
turned and laughed without restraint. 

"An ordinary sunset and a most ordinary joke," 
I said, rather icily. But they continued to laugh, 
first looking at my companion and then at me. 

" Not so ordinary," said another boy. " If you 
could see it from where we are you could under- 
stand." 

" I understand you only too well," I answered. 

Then the two boys who were on the Recep- 
tion Committee came over to us and took my 
German friend in hand. There were no more 
remarks until we reached the house and the man 
himself was quite out of hearing. 

" Why did you bring out a man like that ?" the 
cook questioned me soon after I reached the 
house, and every one looked up from the even- 

61 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

ing paper he was reading anxious to have his 
little laugh. 

But years have taught me somewhat of the 
ways of men. Did not Moses, when the chil- 
dren of Israel attempted to entangle him in argu- 
ment, make his contention invulnerable by stating, 
" God spake unto Moses, saying, — —" 

After that there wasn't much chance for argu- 
ment. The best thing they could do at such a 
time was to quietly line up in the ranks. And 
there is an answer that will always check the 
hilarity of homeless men and make them as sym- 
pathetic as children. 

" Why did you bring him out with you ?" the 
cook repeated. 

"Why?" I said, simply, "the man is hungry." 

Each boy frowned at the cook and turned back 
to his reading. And the cook made no answer, 
except he served the new-comer with double 
portions. 

That night the German slept with his bed 
between the two beds of the Reception Commit- 
tee, and I heard nothing from him until they came 
to report to me in the morning. 

62 



MY MONKS gf VAGABQNDIA 

" Father," said one of the committee, " I don't 
like that old party you brought out with you 
yesterday. All night long in his sleep he was 
muttering: * Down with the millionaire; curse the 
capitalist' — that man is an anarchist." 

A moment later the second member of the com- 
mittee came in. 

" Mr. Floyd, you know that wooden box that 
^ Whiskers ' brought v^ith him ?" he asked, ner- 
vously; " I put my ear down to it and listened. 
I could hear something inside going tick, tick, 
tick, as plain as day." 

" You are excited," I said. "After breakfast send 
the man to me." 

In my room the German and myself talked a 
long time. 

I asked him about the University of Heidelberg, 
the influence of the student in German politics and 
of the world-wide socialistic movement — had 
he ever read the works of Karl Marx, the great 
Socialist ? 

No, he never had. 

Had he ever read La Salle, the anarchist ? 

No. 

63 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

Or, in his travels, had he ever seen that little 
pamphlet entitled, " Dynamite as a Revolutionary 
Agency ?" 

No. 

But despite the denial, it was plain to see that 
my old German was the anarchist that my com- 
mittee had decided him to be. So I sent out 
word that the boys should redouble their kind- 
ness to their half -crazed friend. It was an 
opportunity to try our simple methods upon a 
man who felt that the sad old world and its 
many peoples were as utterly lost as a man may 
become who believes that there is no good within 
himself. Men who feel themselves to be evil, they 
work evil. 

Hardly had a fortnight passed before our good 
anarchist caught the spirit of the place and began 
to feel that kindly sympathy that dwells even in 
the hearts of stranded men. The young men 
grew really fond of him. 

At night he was the last man to knock at my 
door to see that everything had been given atten- 
tion ; in the morning he was the first to ask what 
I wished done. 
64 



MY MONKS gT VAGABQNDIA 

It was a cheery "good night" and a cheery 
" good morning," After several months our anar- 
chist succeeded in finding his brother's address in 
Philadelphia. The brother offered him a home 
and a chance to work, so it was arranged for our 
friend to go to him. 

As he was bidding me "adieu" he said: "When 
we first met, you asked me if I had read any 
anarchistic writings, and I answered you untruth- 
fully. I have read the authors you mentioned, 
and in my desperation I do not know to what 
extreme I might not have gone, for I had lost faith 
in all men. 

" But to see these young men at the Colony, 
forgetful of their own troubles, trying to help me 
to a renewal of courage, gave me a clearer view- 
point of life — the blood I see now in my dreams 
is not that of the capitalist done to death by a 
communistic mob — it is the blood of the gentle 
Christ, who said : 

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' " 



65 



A BASHFUL BEGGAR 



Faint heart ne'er won fair lady.' 



cA Bashful Beggar 



fni us^i7^^*l^^^i~M 


^^^m 








m 



T IS his diffidence," the 
good lady told me, "that 
has caused the young man 
to fail dismally in this 
strenuous age of material- 
ism. His is a gentle spirit !" 
At their first meeting, she 
told me, when he called at 
her home and asked for 
something to eat, he appeared so shy and embar- 
rassed that she was immediately interested in 
him. He blushed and stammered in a most 
pitiable way, and after he had eaten heartily of 
the roast beef and potatoes placed before him he 
wanted to hurry away, hardly having the cour- 
age to remain and thank his benefactor. 

The good lady told me all this in such a serious 
manner that I felt I must accept it seriously, and 
when she suggested that I drive over to a neigh- 
boring village to meet the boy at the train, be- 
cause, being unaccustomed to travel, he could 
never find his way alone to the Colony, I arranged 
to meet him. 

There are simple-minded men — mental defect- 
ives — who are oftentimes helpless as children, 

71 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

and I was inclined to put this boy in that class. 

But the lad whom I found waiting for me at 
the station came out to meet me in a manner so 
self-possessed that for the instant I was startled. 
The report of him seemed to be much in error. 

" I ought not to have put you to all this trouble," 
he said, in ready apology. 

"The letter," I replied, "stated that you might 
not be able to find your way." 

He gave me a sly, shrewd glance, and then, 
confident that he was understood, he said simply, 
" Indeed ?" 

" Naturally you did not confide in the lady who 
sent you, that you had freighted it through most 
States as far as the railroads go ?" 

" No, I did not approach her as a penitent at 
confessional," he answered, " but rather as a pan- 
handler at the side door. Confession may help 
to advance a man spiritually, but to a man living 
on the material plane, would you advise it ?" 

" Is it true," I asked, " that you stammered and 
blushed when our friend offered you roast beef 
and potatoes ?" 

" It is my best canvass," he replied. 

72 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

We had driven some distance while this con- 
versation was in progress, and coming to cross- 
roads, I was uncertain of the direction. 

" Go in to that farmhouse, please," I said to my 
companion, pointing to a cheerful looking home a 
short distance from the road, "and inquire the 
way ?" 

He alighted quickly and went around to the 
side door out of my sight. I waited, every 
moment expecting him to return with the desired 
information, and was growing impatient when 
he came out to me, his face beaming with the 
enthusiasm that follows a successful interview. 

" This is your share," he said^ holding out a 
generous portion of hot apple pie to me. " The 
lady who lives here is a motherly soul — very 
proud of her cooking, and the pie did smell most 
tempting — I could not resist." 

" Did you use your usual ' blush and stammer' 
method to solicit this pastry ? " I questioned him. 

" No, she was as hungry for my compliments 
as I was for her apple pie, so we simply made a 
fair exchange." 

" And the directions back to the Colony ? " 

73 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

" The direction ? " and he felt extremely stupid. 
" I felt all the time that — in my sub-conscious 
mind — there was a thought trying to assert itself/' 

" But the strength of a bad habit," I remarked, 
" held back the thought : habit is a strong force 
for good or evil, for it perpetuates itself by a form, 
as it were, of auto-suggestion. You know all 
suggestions are powerful." 

" It is good pie, isn't it ? " he asked, irrelevantly. 




74 



FRITZ AND HIS SUN DIAL 



"The small task — well performed — opens the 
door to larger opportunity." 



Fritz and His Sun Dial 




fr^^g iL^--— — -^ ^^11 EARS ago, I saw a near— 

^^Sj^^^Ta^j^Jml sighted cook peeling onions 

— a most pathetic scene if 

one judges entirely from 

appearances. The incident 

impressed me deeply at the 

time, although it had long 

since passed from my mind, 

when good old Fritz came 

to me, with tears running down the dusty furrows 

of his be- wrinkled and weather-beaten face. 

Some strange analogy revived the old memory. 
There is — say what one will — something tre- 
mendously ludicrous about honesty when clothed 
too deeply in rusticity. We smile at it while we 
give it our love and respect. 

It can toy with our heart-strings, playing both 
grave and gay. We laugh at it so that we may 
not cry and become laughable ourselves. 

In broken English, he tried to explain that which 
was self-evident and needed no explanation — his 
own distress and desperation. His simple earnest- 
ness — his frank, honest manner — won every 
one's immediate sympathy. The boys began to 

77 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

plan to relieve his distress, even while they laughed 
with scant courtesy in the old man's face. 

His clothes were many sizes too large, which 
was not entirely offset by his cap that was several 
sizes too small. Through his broken shoes, ten 
toes spoke in most eloquent English — the need 
of protection and shelter. 

" What could ever cause a man to get into such 
a condition ? " asked a fellow, who, three weeks 
before, had arrived quite as dishevelled, but had 
already forgotten the fact, which is just as well. 

" The cause ? " asked the German. 

^^Yes." 

" Beer." 

" Beer ! You are the first man I ever saw who 
got to such a finish on beer," returned the ques- 
tioner. 

" I drink nothing else — never," the old German 
affirmed. 

" I am thinking Mr. Floyd will try to clean you 
up in a hurry — or not at all — if you tell him 
that beer put you down and out." 

" I hope so," said the old man ; " I feel pretty 
bad." 

78 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

" Some mighty arguments have been put out 
that it is the distilled liquors that do all the mis- 
chief; that light wine and malt liquors are no 
more harmful than tea. And here you are in our 
camp to disprove this contention. If you say you 
have been on a beer debauch, you may not be 
believed." 

" Maybe someone put a little apple-jack into my 
glass when I wasn't looking," replied the German, 
quickly, as he went into the boys' kitchen to get 
a little coffee. 

So it came about that Fritz became a Colony 
member, and his good nature made him a general 
favorite almost immediately. His strength re- 
turned to him rapidly. 

The final cure was effected when, among the 
books that came in, one of the men found a Ger- 
man volume. He took it to Fritz with some mis- 
giving, as it was a work on astronomy, and Fritz 
did not resemble a Heidelberg professor; but when 
our friend glanced at the book and saw the German 
text, and then, on closer scrutiny, observed that 
it was a work on astronomy, he became excitedly 
enthusiastic. 

" Good ! Very good ! I am happy to get it." 

79 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

It was a week later, an hour or two after mid- 
night, I saw Fritz in the moonlight, walking 
around outside the house. 

I went out to question him, as his actions 
seemed strange to me. 

" What is the trouble, Fritz ? " I asked him. 

" It is nothing." 

" But I would rather not have the men out so 
late/' I said. 

" I cannot find it," he replied. 

'' Find what, Fritz? What have you lost ? " 

" I cannot find the North Star," he said, sadly. 

''Don't you know where to look for it ? " 

" Oh, yes ; but it is always cloudy." 

At that moment the clouds began to move — 
not because Fritz wished it, but his patience had 
outstayed the clouds. 

" There it is. That's it," he exclaimed, as he 
ran into the stable, leaving me standing alone 
star-gazing to no purpose. But Fritz rejoined 
me as abruptly as he had left me. He had 
brought out with him a square board with an 
iron rod running through it. 

*' What have you there ? " I questioned him. 
80 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

" It is my sun-dial ; it is my own invention. I 
have never seen a sun-dial, but I am sure that 
mine will be as correct as any of them." 

Then he fastened the dial firmly on a stump, 
pointing the wire straight at the North Star. 

" In the morning I can see if I am right. Good 
night, Mr. Floyd." 

" Good night, Fritz." 

For several weeks Fritz worked about the place 
timing his labor by his ingenious invention. Some- 
times he would work after the shadows had 
passed the quitting hour. 

" The dial tells us," I said to him one day, " that 
it is time to stop work." 

" No," he said, "sun-dials are never exact; some- 
times they vary fifteen minutes, at least. For the 
Earth goes around the Sun not in a circle but in 
an ellipse. I will work a little longer." 



One Sunday I overheard Fritz talking excitedly 
out near the spot where the dial was stationed. 
I thought he had for the moment forgotten he 
was a Self Master — as all men are likely at times 
to forget. But when I went out to check the 

81 



MY MONKS gr VAGABONDIA 

noise, I found that Fritz had ten or fifteen of the 
men standing in front of him and he was saying : 
"it is easy to do — to measure the distance to 
the Sun, or the distance from one planet to an- 
other. There are a hundred methods, many of 
them as simple as it is to measure the length of 
a building." 

"You are a student of astronomy?" I asked. 

"Yes, for many years, I have studied the Ger- 
man books on astronomy. It is my pleasure." 

From that day our respect for Fritz was estab- 
lished. There is an aristocracy of learning; we 
doff our hats to even the beggar who knows. 

The visitors were all interested in Fritz's queer 
looking sun-dial, made out of a square board and 
piece of telegraph wire. Automobiles halted by 
the roadside to look at it. The children insisted 
on setting their IngersoUs by its falling shadow. 
A well known physician stood examining the dial 
one day. He took out his watch to make com- 
parison. 

"Very clever," he said, "very clever; now let 
me see Fritz." And Fritz came out. 

82 



MY MONKS ^ VAGABONDIA 

"He isn't much to look at," the Doctor whispered 
to me, as the old German approached us. 

Just then the five o'clock whistle blew. The 
Doctor and I looked at the dial. 

"The shadow," I said, "falls on the figure five." 

"Quite true," replied the Doctor. 

"it must," said Fritz, quietly; "it must, for the 
wire points to the North Star." 

The Doctor smiled, as he spoke : "A man in- 
telligent enough to make that dial can, at least, 

care for my stable and horses Fritz, 

would you like to work for me ? I have some 
splendid horses and I pay well for their care." 

"l will go gladly," said Fritz ; "when do you 
want me?" 

"To-morrow." 

"May I go, Mr. Floyd?" 

"On one condition," I said. 

"What is it ? " 

"You must give the Colony your sun-dial." 

"it is nothing, but you may have it if you 

like." 

The next day Fritz was given a good suit of 

clothes, a collar and tie. 

83 



MY MONKS £f VAGABONDIA 

"l don't know about the collar and tie," said 
the old man; "l have not worn one for many 
months." 

Three or four of the boys helped him to but- 
ton on the collar and arrange the ascot effectively. 
Then the Doctor came with his best span of pet 
horses. 

"jump in with me, Fritz," he said. 

The old German, smiling, climbed in and then 
turned, took his hat off to me and the boys. 

"Thank you Good luck," he said, 

"You take the reins and drive," said the Doctor. 

Fritz buttoned his coat tightly around him, 
straightened up his old bent back and taking the 
reins he proudly drove away. 

'He did not come in a carriage," said a boy. 

"it is the Self Masters that helped him," said 
another. 

"You forget about the Sun-dial," I said. 




84 



'V. ^: ti*, v^^ 




O 

g 

S 

< 
X 
O 

o 

< 
o 
z 

X 



THE W^AITER W^HO DID 
NOT W^AIT 



"Whoever is not master of himself is master 
of nobody"— Stahl. 




The Waiter Who Did 
Not Wait. 

I AD the schedule been fol- 
lowed faithfully, it was the 
time for the auto party to 
have finished their tea and 
toast and be awaiting the 
chauffeur to come up with 
their machine, but there 
seemed to be a delay some- 
where. Investigation re- 
vealed a peculiar condition of affairs. The visitors 
were moving about rather impatiently while the 
lunch, instead of being served, was rapidly get- 
ting chilled on the side-board in an adjoining 
room. 

"Where is Delmonico Bill, the attentive waiter," 
we asked, not a little surprised at his disappear- 
ance. He was nowhere to be found, although we 
hunted high and low for him. 

But to manage men successfully who admit 
their irresponsibility needs an overseer who is 
not only patient in disappointment, but who can 
offer the pat excuse impromptu, and cheerfully 
reassure friends that everything is all right, when 

89 



MY MONKS gr VAGABONDIA 

— unless viewed from the standpoint of a year 
from to-day — it is all wrong. 

On this special day there seemed to be no ap- 
parent explanation except that the waiter did not 
wait. But everything is a success that ends 
happily, and the delayed lunch made the visitors 
more than ever in sympathy with the Work. 
Whoever loves us for our mistakes, shall become 
more endeared to us as they know us better. 
The diners — who had not dined — saw humor 
in our embarrassment, and assured us of their 
best wishes as they drove merrily away, leaving 
us stupidly asking ourselves why the waiter had 
left his guests unserved. 

It was nearly an hour later when Delmonico 
Bill came down out of the hay loft, brushing the 
dust and hay-seed from his clothes. 

"Has she gone?" he enquired stupidly. 

"Who?" we asked him in chorus. 

"My Sunday school teacher," he explained. 

We awaited his further explanation. It was 
the first time we had heard that he ever had 
such a teacher. 

"it isn't that I am in the least ashamed to serve 

90 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

as a waiter. Menial work that must be done is 
not humiliating to me. But when I looked in at 
the visitors as I was arranging their lunch on the 
tray — I recognized in one of the ladies my old 
Sunday school teacher — and when I thought to 
what an extent I had disregarded her instructions 
I hadn't the courage to face her . . . My, but it 
was hot up in that haymow ! 

"The last time I saw this good lady was the 
evening in the church vestry when the class 
members gave her a group picture of themselves. 
We all went to the local photographers together. 
There were three rows of us— the tall, taller and 
tallest— all raw-boned rascals trying to assume 
the spiritual pose of Sir Galahad. I never cared 
much for the photograph, but the frame— the 
gold frame — much befiligreed was mighty im- 
pressive. I remember it because there was 
seventy-five cents of my money in it. I worked 
hard for that money. It took me the best part 
of three nights to get it from Cy Watson — play- 
ing penny-ante in his father's carriage house. 
But I was happy to turn it to such good use," 

"it was tainted money," said one of the boys, 

91 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

"There wasn't any such thing as tainted 
money in those days. Money was money and 
no one had any of it. 

" I made the presentation speech that night in 
the vestry. It was a masterpiece. The teacher 
and the women folks all cried. I have forgotten 
the speech now; thirty years of knocking around 
the world crowds out the memory of many 
things that happened when we were boys in 
Sunday school. But for years, I could repeat 
that piece. I rehearsed for that evening over two 
months — I could say it forwards or backwards, 
I could start it in the middle and say it both 
ways — in fact when I think of it, I rather be- 
lieve that was the way I did say it that evening, 
because the applause that followed my humble 
effort was too tempestuous, yet the scholars all 
had their money in the gold frame, and the 
teacher was to leave us next morning for the 
East, where she was to marry some man of 
prominence. My mother said I spoke splendidly, 
but I doubt if she really heard me. She was 
thinking how charming I looked in the new 
trousers she had made for me. The truth was, 

92 



MY MONKS £/• VAGARONDTA 

she had worked ull the night before to get them 
ready. She had had Home dilhculty to make the 
seams come down the side. As it was they were 
not quite finished, t)ut no one knew it but my 
mother and me. 

**In the years that are to come," I said in my 
speech, **not only will your kindly instructions in 
our Bible studies help us to meet and overcome 
all temptation, but the inspiration which we have 
received from yom IriendHhip and devotion to 
our spiritual welfare will influence us throughout 
our lives." 

For the moment Delmonico Hill was silent-- 
whatever his thoughts may have been, he did 
not share them wiiii us. But presently, he ob- 
served the tray with the tea and toast upon it, 
just as he had left it. 

" It is too bad," he said, **maybe she would not 
have known me at all .... I am sorry .... but 
you can underatand." 

Then he began to clear away the lunch. **The 
tea is still warm," he said smilingly, **1 believe 1 
will pour a cup for myself . . . . my nerves are 
jumping, it may quiet them." 

OS 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

He filled the cup and raising it he said: "Here 
is to my Sunday school teacher who believed in 
me in those days when I believed in myself. 
God bless her." 




94 



COMPOUNDING A 
FELONY 



"Train up a child in the way he should go: 
and when he is old, he will not depart from 
itr— Bible. 



Compounding a Felony 




HERE was a knock at the 

door, but no one thought 

of answering it until it was 

repeated — more faintly, a 

second time — then one of 

the young men opened it, 

saying to the newcomer, 

"it is never locked, my 

boy/' 

In stepped a lad some seventeen years of age, 

and inquired in a voice hardly audible if he could 

stay all night. 

The young men sent the new arrival to me for 
an answer to his request. It was readily to be 
seen that the boy was in a state of great excite- 
ment. He acted so strangely that, contrary to 
custom, I asked him why he had come. 

"The police are after me," he stammered, as 
he turned and looked nervously at the door. 
"What have you done ? " I questioned the boy. 
" I stole a bicycle and the owner just saw me 
walking along the street and started to chase me, 
calling after me, *Stop, thief!' A crowd began 
to gather and I had all I could do to get away. 

9f 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

I ran around a building and joined the crowd in 
the search ; then, after a little, I dropped out of 
sight again and decided that I would go out to 
you for advice." 

" Where is the bicycle now ? " I questioned. 

" I sold it," he said. 

" Where is the money you got for it ? " 

" I spent it." He began to cry. 

"And now your conscience starts to trouble 
you." 

"Yes, sir." 

" My lad," I told him, " this is no hiding place 
for boys who steal, and for whom the police are 
searching." 

The boy did not reply; he turned aside and 
brushed away the tears with his cap. Then he 
started slowly towards the door. 

" So I can't stay ? " he said finally. 

" I am afraid not," I replied. 

He went to the window and peered out into 
the night. 

"They'll get me," he said, hopelessly, "and 
when they do it means a long term in prison for 
me. 

98 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

"Wait a moment," I said. "Have you been 
arrested before." 

" Yes, another boy and myself took some fancy 
postal cards from a stationery stand. They were 
funny pictures that we wanted for our collection. 
We were sent to Jamesburg that time. Then 
since I came from that institution I was arrested 
again for something else I did and I am now out 
on probation. Next time the judge said he would 
give me a long sentence in the Rah way Reform- 
atory." 

"You should have thought of all this sooner," 
I said, with a sternness that I did not feel, for I 
knew how easily one can drift from an evil 
thought into an evil act. 

" I heard you helped boys when they needed 
it," ventured the young rascal. " I surely need 
it now." 

" I may help them when I can," I replied, " but 
I never intentionally make m.yself a partner in 
their wrong doing." 

" The judge ought not to give me more than 
three years," said the boy thoughtfully, "even 
that is a long time. , . . The bicycle wasn't 

99 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

worth more than five dollars any way. The 
owner said he would sell it to me for that 
amount." 

At that moment there was a noise in the next 
room. 

" What was that ? " asked the lad, trembling 
with fear. 

"Your conscience is quite wakeful, my boy. 
That was one of the men closing the windows 
for the night." 

The boy came over close to me so he could 
look into my face, and there was a depth of seri- 
ousness in his voice when he said, " So you think 
I ought to give myself up and take the conse- 
quences ? " 

"Three years in prison?" I asked, looking 
straight at the boy. " Three years in prison ! " 

The words of Jacob Riis flashed through my 
mind — "When a boy goes to prison, a citizen dies." 

"if you were in my place you would give 
yourself up ? " he asked me pointedly. 

I passed my hand across my eyes. Unlike the 
boy I had no cap with which to brush away the 
tears. 

100 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

" My boy," I said, " I will be honest with you 
— I would not give myself up." 

" What would you do ? " 

" First, I would make up my mind not to steal 
any more, then I would earn money and pay 
the man for the bicycle." 

A new light came into the boy's eyes. 

" I did not used to be a thief," he said, " but 
they made me mad. Ever since I came from 
Jamesburg every one watches me. My old boy 
friends, my father and mother, the police ; some- 
one's eye is alvvays on me. Their suspicions 
madden me. Sometimes it seems to me as if 
they dared me to take another risk. One day on 
the ferryboat from New York I met a detective 
who had once arrested me. Wherever I went 
he followed me. I was afraid, so I left the other 
boys who were with me and went to the stern 
of the boat. I didn't tell anyone, but when I was 
all alone I put my hands down into my own 
pockets so he would know that I didn't have 
them in anyone else's. . . . I'm not very old, 
but I know that that isn't the way to make a bad 
boy into a good one." 

101 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

After a moment I said to him: "if I can ar- 
range with the owner of the bicycle so that you 
can pay for it in small weekly payments, will 
you join the Colony and out of the little money 
you earn settle with the man you have wronged ?'' 

'* If you will help me," returned the lad hope- 
fully, " I will make good to the man and to you." 

The next morning I talked the boy's case over 
with an elderly attorney who lives with us, and 
who knows of his own knowledge the ruin one 
can bring upon himself if he does not follow 
proper methods. The old man gladly undertook 
to settle with the owner of the stolen bicycle, 
and save the boy from the consequences of his 
wrongdoing. 

The boy worked industriously about the place 
and in a few weeks had earned sufficient money 
to settle satisfactorily for the bicycle. He is now 
working on a neighbor's farm and says that he 
is determined to make something worth while 
out of his life. 

" Do you know," said the old attorney to me 
recently, "if anyone ever charges us with hav- 
ing compounded a felony in the case of this boy 

102 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

and his bicycle we can defend ourselves on the 
technical ground that the bicycle was of such 
slight value that the stealing of it was only a 
petty crime." 

"in this case— -the saving of a boy from 
prison "— I answered him, "if a technicality saves 
us from a criminal charge which might be brought 
against us, I for one am perfectly satisfied with 
such a defense." 




103 



THE PASSING OF SULLIVAN 



"Friar Philip, you are the tuning fork from 
whence my conscience takes its proper tone." — 
Richelieu, 



The Passing of Sullivan 

" What's the name that grows 
Upon you more and more ? " 

" Sullivan ! "— " That's my name." 

" Who's the man who wrote 
The opera, Pinafore ? " 

" Sullivan ! "— " That's my name." 

** Big Tim, you all knew him ; 
John L., you know him well. 
There never was a man, named Sullivan 
Who wasn't a d — fine Irishman." 

— George Cohan's Song, ''Sullivan." 

F you thought it was im- 
perative to change your 
name and you had access 
to all the Literature — 
Ancient and Modern — to 
be found in a Carnegie 
Library, would you select 
for yourself the name 
"Sullivan.?" 
Evidently our Irish Lad agreed with Cohan — 
that " it is a d — n fine name" — for when I re- 
cognized in him one of my Family of Homeless 
Men as he walked aimlessly along the city streets, 
and asked him rather abruptly, what his name 
might be, his reply — too long considered to be 
truthful — was, '' Frank Sullivan." 

107 




MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

"Pardon me," I said, immediately realizing 
that I had no right to ask of him the question and 
that my thoughtlessness had caused the boy to 
answer falsely. The outcast, distrustful of his 
fellow, frequently seeks safety in falsehood until 
friendship disarms suspicion and Love calls forth 
the Truth for which it has not asked. 

^^ Frank Sullivan" I said. " I, too, like the 
name." 



So upon my invitation he came gladly into our 
little Family to share the happy freedom of a 
peaceful home, where others like himself give 
honest work and receive — not in the spirit of 
organized charity, but in the true warmth of 
fraternal love — the hospitality of a welcome 
guest. 

His Irish heart soon caught the meaning of the 
work, and responded readily in thoughtful service. 
. . . If our Self Master Colony attracted the 
attention of some broad-minded man well known 
in humanitarian work so that encouraged, it car- 
ried me and my dreams of uplift higher and 
higher until the stars were our near neighbors— 

108 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

Sullivan, silent and attentive, followed me in my 
dreams. 

If my work was misunderstood and my best 
efforts discredited, Sullivan was at my side si- 
lently consoling me with his loyalty and friendship. 

He grew into my life. I depended upon him 
and he did not fail me. 

" Richelieu," I would often say, " had his Friar 
Philip to aid him in his ambitions and I have my 
good friend Sullivan." 

Then as the months passed, once again, the 
grass spread its delicate carpet beneath our feet, 
the trees blossomed sending a perfumed message 
to us, the bluebird and the thrush called through 
the open windows until we, busy with our work, 
were forced to remark that Spring time had come 

— the beginning of another year 

Then the Brothers observed the progress we had 
made in the twelvemonth, ... It seemed so 
much to them, so little to the outside world. 

"it looks more prosperous now," said Sullivan 
proudly as he observed the automobiles stopping 
at the door, "you make Prince as well as Pauper 
do you homage." 

109 



MY MONKS £f VAGABONDIA 

"No, Sullivan, not I; it's the Truth that all are 
hungry for — Pauper and Prince alike — and while 
the few may reach it by meditation and the more 
by prayer, the most of common clay like you and 
I must reach it by service." 

" I never quite understand you when you 
speak," he said, " I never could read those dry 
old books however much I tried. . . . But 
by the way, I wonder if we have blankets for the 
new arrival who just came in." 

For the Stranded Sons of the City come often 
to join our Family and share our simple hospi- 
tality. 

" Sullivan," I said one day, " this work is going 
to grow and grow. . . . When we have won 
I want you to share the credit with me — you 
will remain, will you not ? " 

Then receiving no reply, I turned to look and 
he had gone — gone to offer his blanket to the new 
guest. 

" Yes," I heard him say, " I have some extra 
covers on my bed you may have." 

" Another falsehood. Sullivan, you should al- 

110 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

ways speak the truth." For the nights were cold 
and the blankets none too many. And yet since 
many prayers are lies, why may not some lies 
be prayers ? " Maybe in your dark purgatory, 
my Irish lad, these little falsehoods of yours will 
be counted as prayers/' 

One afternoon a letter came for my friend — in 
a young girl's rather labored writing — he had 
received many such, and as I gave it to him I 
smiled a little. To him I had always been an in- 
dulgent Father — for a boy and girl will love, even 
though he or she may be our favorite child. 

That night when the day's labor was over, 
Sullivan came to me, asking if he could talk to 
me. It was a strange request, for he never seemed 
to wish to talk, and I knew that something had 
moved him deeply. 

"You know my name is not Frank Sullivan," 
he asked. 

"Yes, I know," I answered. 

" But did you know I was married ? " he in- 
quired. 

" What, a boy like yourself married ? " I asked. 

" Yes, I have been married over two years and 

111 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

have a little girl a year old. The letters that I 
have received have been from my wife Josephine. 
She and I ran away and were married, but on 
our return her father wouldn't accept me. He 
said I was not worthy of his daughter — and no 
doubt he is right. He is wealthy and I could not 
support her in the way to which she is accus- 
tomed. So I was forced to leave her. But Jos- 
ephine and I couldn't forget. 

" All these months she has been working to 
interest her father in me, and now the baby is a 
year old, he has decided to help me. . . We 
—Josephine and I — knew he would soften in time ; 
you see he, too, loves Josephine and the Baby. 
So I want to go to them." 

" Yes," I said simply, for a sense of approaching 
loss had robbed me of my pretty speeches. 

" When you met me, I didn't know where to 
go, nor what to do," he said. 

"Yes." 

" I have flattered myself I have been some help 
to you in starting your work. Tell me have I 
made good to you ?" 

"Yes." 

112 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 



" I shall try to make good to Josephine's father." 

"Yes." 

Then in a few moments he said: 

" Now that it is time to go from you, I hate to 
leave you and the boys." 

" But you must go," I said, "your wife and 
child have the first claim." 

"Josephine wanted me to ask you for two or 
three rugs that the boys weave. We want them 
for our new home." 

" You may have them." 

And I took him by the hand, " Good-by, Sul- 
livan." 

" Not Sullivan anymore, but McLean," he re- 
plied. 

As he turned away he said half regretfully, " It 
is the Passing of Sullivan." 

" I wonder if Richelieu, after all, lost his Friar 
Philip ? " I asked myself as I waved my hand in 
farewell to him. 




113 



MVHEN SISTER CALLED 



"O Lord, That which I want is first bread — 
Thy decree, not my choice, that bread must be 
first." — Sidne^ Lanier. 



When Sister Called 




E came — did Jim — highly 
recommended by two fel- 
lows who live by their 
wits — one, Lakewood Joe 
and the other, Corduroy 
Tom. They are my friends, 
for they have told me they 
were. One of them always 
comes to me in the Winter 
anxious to get work on a farm; the other with a 
few broken umbrellas and a railroad spike for a 
hammer, starts out with the Springtime on the 
quest of nything to mend." 

Umbrella mending was once a reputable calling, 
but it has fallen into disrepute since the introduc- 
tion of the cheap umbrella. But that pathetic 
part of the story should be left for Lakewood Joe 
to tell, for it gets him — a humble mechanic — 
many a hot cup of coffee, many a dime. 

The recommendation by my two friends was 
sufficiently strong to nearly cause me to refuse 
admission to young Jim. But his manner pleased 
me and our reception committee — made up of 
members of the Family — assured me that we 

117 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

had no need to fear poor Jim. Anyway he who 
has nothing can safely make friends with whom- 
ever he chooses. 

Jim told us that years ago he had been a 
" cookie " — please note the "ie" — in a lumber 
camp in an Eastern State. So when a vacancy 
occurred in the culinary department of our home 
Jim was selected for the place. 

He proved an excellent assistant and worked 
for the house — as the phrase goes — he made the 
coffee so weak, he made the potato soup go so 
far, that I, economical from habit and from neces- 
sity, would blush whenever one of the boys said 
that he enjoyed the good dinner. 

I need have had no fear for it was Jim's smile 
that made us all content with the simple fare. 

"a grand cook," the boys would say. 

" A grand cook," Echo and I would answer. 

Jim had roughed it for several years and knew 
a little of the ways of the road. He had worked 
when a boy in his father's factory and as some 
of the workmen felt they were not being paid 
properly — the son joined in with the workmen 
and went out on a strike against his father. 

118 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

In the excitement of the strike the father had 
spoken to the son about his joining in with the 
strikers. It seemed to the father like disloyalty 
— ingratitude. But as for the son, he couldn't 
analyze his own psychological state of mind suffi- 
ciently to explain why his sympathy had been 
with the strikers, but feeling himself no longer 
welcome at the old home, he started to roam. 

Seven years had passed since he had written 
to the old folks. Once or twice he had heard in- 
directly of his father's search for him, but he 
could not even bring himself to write, much less 
to return. 

He had been with us nearly a month when 
finally, one evening, as he saw the other boys 
writing letters to their homes he decided he him- 
self would write a letter to his married sister in 
Pennsylvania. When it was written and mailed, 
he half regretted what he had done. 

Wasn't he a wanderer — a young hobo if you 
like — and why should he think of home after all 
these years, even if the kindly sympathy to be 
found at the Colony did recall to him those better 
days ? 

119 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

But the letter was already on its way .... 
He wondered what his sister might think, how 
she might act She had always cared for 

him. 

The bean soup which he was preparing for 
supper burned while he was deep in thought, 
and he blamed himself for his absent-mindedness. 

" The boys will have to eat burnt soup just 
because I got to feeling sentimental," he said to 
himself. 

Then a word came that a nicely gowned young 
lady was coming up the driveway. There are 
many visitors at the Tea Room of the Colony 
House so it need have caused no excitement. 
But some one whispered " Look at Jim ! " 

He had glanced out at the approaching stran- 
ger, and he was pale and trembling. He said to 
me in a faint voice, " It's my sister. Tell her I 
left this morning Tell her I got a posi- 
tion." 

And then the bell rang and he said : 

" Wait — I will see her." 

So brushing his hair and arranging his tie he 
went in to meet his sister. 

120 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

The homeless outcast lad faced his aristocratic 
sweet-faced sister ! As the boys saw them they 
did not know^ which one to pity the more, al- 
though the sympathy seemed to be pretty largely 
with Jim. 

" Is every one well ? " the brother asked, trying 
to relieve the strain of the situation. 

"Yes," she answered, "but why have you 
never written all these years ? I got your letter 
this morning and left in an hour to get to you for 
fear I might lose you again. Father has hunted 
for you everywhere. He thinks he was harsh 
with you when you struck that day with the 
men — for you were only a child. 

"l thought I might get you to come home 
with me," she continued, " my husband and I 
have a splendid home. You are always welcome. 
.... Or why don't you go back to your old 
job with Father. He needs you. He is getting 
older." 

" You think he would take me back ? " 

" Gladly. What are you doing here ? " 

" I am cook for the boys," he said. 

" You, a cook ? " she smiled. " Why, you 

121 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

wouldn't wash a dish at home for me when we 
were children. You can't be very much of a 

cook But never mind. I have found 

you." 

"Confound it! I have let those beans bum 
again." And he excused himself for a moment. 

When he returned he said, " I will write you 
if I can decide to go back home. It comes a little 
suddenly you know. I have been a prodigal 
too long to turn into a father's white-haired boy 
on the instant." 

Then after a moment he asked : " Do you know 
v/hat Mother used to put into the beans when 
she burned them to take out the smoky taste ?" 

"Jim, Mother wasn't that kind of a cook." 

As the sister was going out to step into the 
carriage she said, " Promise me you will not 
leave here without writing me. I don't want to 
lose you again." 

" I promise," he said. 



That night the boys ate their supper in silence. 
Each one was deep in thought. 

" Too bad the beans are burned," Jim said. 

122 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

"l like them that way," replied one of the 
boys. " It makes them taste different." 

That night after supper no one wrote any let- 
ters, which was unusual, and one of the boys 
jokingly asked another near him, "Why don't 
you write a letter home to your sister ? " 

" I am afraid," replied the lad, " she might an- 
swer it in person like Jim's sister did." 

Jim has taken a job on a farm and is saving his 
money. He has nearly enough to return to his 
old home ; he refuses to accept any aid from his 
father or sister. 

" I will go back as I came away — independ- 
ently." 




123 



EDISON'S EVENING STAR 



"Seek him that maketh the seven stars and 
Orion : The Lord is his name.''— Bible, 



Edison's Evening Star 



Hamlet: "Ay, marry, why was he sent into England ? " 

First Clown: "Why, because he was mad; he shall 
recover his wits there ; or, if he do not, it's no great matter 
there." 

Hamlet: "Why?" 

First Clown : " 'Twill not be seen in him there; there 

the men are as mad as he." 

— Shakespeare. 




O be dull of wit is sadly un- 
fortunate, but to be dull 
of wit and be compelled to 
live in a Colony made up 
of more or less reckless 
young men is doubly un- 
fortunate. 

In the group eccentrici- 
ties are quickly discour- 
aged. The grouch, the crank, the bully, if he 
would remain and live in harmony must learn 
his lesson in democracy — the individualist is 
given short shift. 

Of course the dull of wit should be given im- 
munity at all times, and in theory he is, but in 
real practice even the most gentle hearted man 

127 



MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

will have his little joke at the expense of the man 
less alert mentally. The members of the Colony 
are no exception to this rule. 

"Tell us more," the boys asked of the Moon- 
Struck-One, one evening after the day's work 
was done, "about the inhabitants of Mars, which 
you see in your trances." 

And then he — the Moon-Struck-One — would 
explain in detail the strange people he had seen 
in his dreams. 

"These planets," he told them, "are all being 

made ready for the coming race of Man 

After Cycles and Cycles, we move on to newer 

and better worlds Each of the mystic 

Seven Planets are at the service of the human 
race. Time and time again a new world has 
borne the burden of the evolving man's hope and 

his despair The cosmic scheme is worthy 

of the Wondrous God, who holds not only the 
Seven Planets in control, but rules the Seven 
Universes with their Seven Suns — you laugh, 
most men laugh, the churchmen laugh, they do 
not know, they have not seen — but I know and 
have seen." 

128 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

"How interesting/' said one boy, winking slyly 
to his fellows. "I know something of astronomy 
myself; my brother was a Princeton graduate." 

It was a summer's evening when this conver- 
sation took place and the boys were sitting out 
on the lawn enjoying the night air, for the day 
had been hot and oppressive. 

"What do any of you know of the Stars?" 
said the Moon-Struck-Sage. 

"Very little, but tell us," said one of the boys, 
%r I believe in your visions. I dreamed one 
night myself about a big fire — a bad sign as you 
very well know— and the next day I got pinched.' " 

"Yes, you are deeply learned in the Stars," he 
said with smiling skepticism, "that is, I suppose 
you can tell the difference between a star and a 
lantern." 

" Look out," said a boy who had not spoken 
before, "he is joking you." 

" No, seriously," said the Witless One, "when 
I said ^lantern' I had reference to the light that 
Edison hangs out each night when the weather 
is clear — you have no doubt read of it. He plans 
to construct a light that will illuminate this 

129 



MY MONKS §f VAGABONDIA 

country at night almost as brightly as the sun 

lights it by day Do you see that light 

just above the trees in the East. You can tell it 
as it is larger than any stars around it. It has the 
appearance of a star only much brighter. Do 
you see it ? " 

" Yes," said the boys who were all attention, 
although one or two were skeptical until one of 
the group remembered that he had read about 
Edison's powerful light in the Sunday magazine 
supplement of a New York paper. 

" He is a wonderful man," said another. 
At last all were convinced and the Moon- 
Struck-One, satisfied, arose rather abruptly, and 
went into the house. 

A few days later he left the Colony to go to 
his relatives in a distant city, and so the boys 
had no one to play tricks upon, no one who was 
not their equal in wit. 

It was some weeks afterwards that one of the 
young men said to me as we were talking out of 
doors in the evening : 

"There is that light of Edison's hanging over 
the trees." 

130 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

"W^here?"Iasked. 

" That bright light over there that looks like a 
big star. The Witless One told us about it. In 
some ways he was really wiser than we gave 
him credit for." 

" That's the Evening Star," I said. 

*' It is what ? " asked another boy. 

" It is Venus, the Evening Star." 

*' He told us it was put up there by Edison." 

" So it really isn't an illuminated balloon ? " 

The boys looked from one to the other, then 
every one laughed loudly and long. 

" Doesn't the Bible say, ^Answer a fool accord- 
ing to his folly ? ' " asked a boy. 

" Yes, and it also says, 'Answer not a fool ac- 
cording to his folly, lest thou also be like unto 
him.' " 




131 



IN THE WORLD OF 
WANDERLUST 



" To stand in true relations with men in a false 
age, is worth a fit of insanity, is it not ? " 

— Emerson. 




In the World of 
Wanderlust 

HE Spirit of the Wander- 
lust seizes all the World 
in the early days of Spring 
— the so-called hobo takes 
to the open road, the mil- 
lionaire to his country 
home, each rejoices that 
the long imprisonment of 
winter is passed, for all 
men are akin in their love of freedom. It is a 
search for the ideal. With De Soto we would 
say, " Somewhere, if ye seek untiringly, ye shall 
discover and drinke of ye Fountaine of Youth and 
Happiness." 

" Men have said they do not understand my 
restless wanderings," remarked Lakewood Tom, 
" Can it be they have never watched the coming 
of the first robin, and do not know that he ushers 
in the new regime of promise and prosperity ? 

" Other men may linger in the failing twilight of 
the tired day. I go to greet the rising sun. Even 
the very birds — little hoboes of the air, break 

135 



MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

camp cheerfully in early May. Like them I, too, 
take to the open road and walk by faith. 

" But you, my lords, with your worldly goods, 
are vagabonds no less than I. Out of the inex- 
haustible larder of the Divine, God gives you — as 
it were — a crust of bread, and men call you mighty 
in riches. Take a vagabond's advice, and put your 
mark upon the house where you found favor, lest 
after many years, disheartened, you pass that way 
again and need another * handout' — maybe not a 
crust of bread, but, a more lasting gift — an ideal 
perchance, that may not fail so soon. Sometimes 
methinks it sad, there is given to man only the 
thing for which he asks. 

" Adieu," said Lakewood Tom, taking up his 
staff, " when the snow falls next year I may visit 
your Monastery again with your permission, if by 
happy chance I am on this earth. If not, I'll meet 
you some Christmas day on the planet Mars, for 
I never forget a friend. Good cheer ! Adieu." 

" Much privation has crazed the old man," said 
a comrade who, with me, watched the old vaga- 
bond walking slowly down the drive. 

" I do not know," I said. 
136 



THE TW^O JEANS 



"To every man there come noble thoughts 
that pass across his heart like great white 
birds." — Maeterlinck, 




The Two Jeans 

T IS always hard times on 
the Bowery," my diminu- 
tive informant told me. 
He was a new comer to 
our Colony. He, in com- 
pany with another young 
man, had made his appear- 
ance an hour or two before, 
but I had not been able to 
talk with him, except to assure him that he and 
his friend might remain with us one night, at 
least. " Yes, sir," he continued, " without money 
a man is a dead one ; even in this strange haunt of 
stranger men money is a daily need. Of course, 
some men who know the hidden ways can get 
along on as little as twenty cents a day, or less, 
but for myself I could not exist on less than 
thirty-five cents." 

The figures he mentioned seemed modest 
enough to me. " Couldn't you earn that much ? " 
I asked him. 

" I am so small no one would hire me," he re- 
plied. " I could get errands to do now and then. 
Of course, while my mother lived she kept a 

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MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

home for me, but after she died I did not know 
what to do. I only sat in the house day after 
day and looked out of the window. I could not 
make any plans for myself. You see when I was 
a baby I fell and injured my back. I didn't grow 
much more after that accident. The doctors called 
it a curvature." 

He laughed easily as he asked me, " You know 
the poem of James Whitcomb Riley, 
* Pm th'ust a little cripple boy 
An' never going to grow, 
An' git a great big man at all, 
'Cause auntie told me so.' 

"l rather think Fm that boy. One time I 
chanced to find that poem and read it to my 
mother. She took the book from me in the gentle 
way she had, and then putting her arms around 
me, told me to be a good boy and everything 
v/ould come out all right. But they never did 
come all right. Maybe I was not good enough ; 
but this can't interest you. You hear enough hard 
luck stories without mine." 

" If you wish to tell me," I said, " I shall be 
quite glad to listen." 

" Well, it's only this," he continued. " Left to 

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MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

myself, I wasn't smart enough to make a living. 
I can't get my room rent and my lunch money 
all at the same time. If I have my lunches I have no 
room, and if I have a room I have nothing to eat." 

He grew very serious. He could laugh at his 
misshapen back, make a jest at his deformity, but 
hunger — even at the thought of hunger — the 
smile left his face, the color fled from his lips. 

" Are you faint ? " I asked him quickly. 

"No, I am a coward," he said, "just a plain 
coward. You see, I am beaten and I know it." 

"You will be all right in a few days," I said, 
" and be able to criticise the food as cheerfully as 
any other member of my Family." I laughed 
gayly enough, but he did not laugh with me. 
"Have you and this boy been friends a long 
time ? Where did you meet him ? " I inquired. 

" In the park, some weeks ago. He has no 
home either. He was sleeping out and so was I. 
He gave me part of a newspaper to put under 
me, as the ground was damp. So I tried to talk 
to him. . . . He is good looking, isn't he ? " 

I admitted it. 

" Well, he's a Russian dummy," said the boy. 

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MY MONKS if VAGABONDIA 

" He is what ? " I asked. 

"He just landed from Russia three months 
ago, and he knows very little about the English 
language. He doesn't have the slightest idea 
what I have been talking to you about all this 
time. Night after night, not having any bed to 
sleep in, he has ' flopped ' in the park or ' carried 
the banner ' until morning." 

" So you brought him out with you ? " 

" Yes ; I didn't know whether you would take 
us in or not. I thought I would take him along 
on the theory that the ground in Jersey is no 
harder to sleep on than it is in New York State. 
If you have to turn us away we will not be any 
worse off than we have been." 

" We will make room somehow for you and 
your friend," I told him. 

So Jean — Little Jean, the boys called him — 
went through a pantomime for the enlightenment 
of the Russian youth whose name was also Jean. 
Finally the larger boy understood that I had 
given them permission to remain, for he turned 
to me and said simply : " Nice," and then he 

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MY MONKS gT VAGABONDIA 

bowed gracefully. Little Jean was right — Big 
Jean was good looking. 

" I wish I was big and strong like him," said 
Little Jean, admiringly. . . . 

. . . The weeks pass quickly when one has 
his work to do, and the two Jeans grew to know 
the Colony. Big Jean spent his spare hours 
studying English and talking with the other boys. 
Little Jean made friends with the chickens, the 
pigs, the cow and the horse, while Boozer — the 
Colony dog — and he were inseparable chums. 

" Boozer," Little Jean told me, "knows the heart 
of outcast boys and men. He meets the new 
arrivals at the gate and escorts them to the 
house. He may challenge the lawless approach 
of the rich man in his auto, and warn the house- 
hold of possible danger impending, but the most 
unkempt ' knight of the road ' will find Boozer 
quick to make friends with him." 

Big Jean— with his pleasing bow—looked after 
the guests who visited the Tea Room, for he 
learned to speak English rapidly. The report of 
his courteous service came to the ears of a wide 

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MY MONKS gT V AGABONDIA 

awake Jap who needed him to help him in his 
hotel. So one day he sent for the Russian lad. 

At the start the pay was to be twenty dollars 
a month, with room, board and extra tips. 

" You need me in your Tea Room, Mr. Floyd," 
he said, " I am willing to stay." 

"No, Jean, you must take the position and 
prove to me and to yourself that you can make 
good." 

That night he wrote to his aged mother in 
Russia that there were wonderful opportunities 
for young men in America. 

When he had gone I hunted to find Little Jean. 
I found him out on the lawn with his chum, 
Boozer. He did not see me as I approached, but 
as I looked at him the thought came to me that 
he had suddenly grown old, and there was the 
anxious look upon his face — the same that I had 
seen when he had talked to me the first time. 

" Boozer," I heard him say, " it's all right ; I 
am a coward, I'm beaten and I know it, but I'm 
glad Big Jean got the job — honestly. Boozer, I 
am — you see it isn't all my fault — he's so damned 
good looking." 
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MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

Boozer put his face close to that of Little Jean 
and held out his paw to the discouraged boy. 
You see when you live your life at the Self Mas- 
ters you sense the inner thought of broken men. 
Boozer — who knows no other life — understands 
the heart of the discouraged. I did not interrupt 
the two friends, but turned back to the house. 

"What can you ever do to help poor Little 
Jean ? " a visitor asked me. "There seems to be 
no position in the world for him. What can you 
do for him ? " 

" I don't see much chance," I replied, distrust- 
ing for the moment that Divine Guidance that 
never fails. 

It was only two days after Big Jean had left us 
that a kindly old lady called at the Colony. She 
wanted a boy who would take good care of her 
horses, and drive her and her husband back and 
forth from her home to the railway station. " I 
want a boy who loves animals," she said. 

So Little Jean has his place in the world — like 
you and I if we can only find it. . . . 

• . . Xmas Day Big Jean brought four big pies 

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MY MONKS gf VAGABONDIA 

♦ 

which he had cooked especially for the Self Mas- 
ters' dinner. 

And Little Jean brought his Xmas present — all 
neatly tied up in a box bedecked with pink rib- 
bons — a pound of meat for Boozer. 




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